Side Effects of Sex
by fuckingbrianaman
Summary: After a fight that leaves Albus living alone in their flat, Scorpius comes home. Albus doesn't know if he's lying or not, but he hopes he isn't. A make-up smut. Warning: Slash. I am extremely sorry for the catchy title; it was an accident.


**Author's Note: Hey guys! I just got back from vacation on Friday, and figured I should write and post something as a present to you lot. (By the way, I went to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando, Florida, and it was amazing. Anyone who can afford it should go.) I have been eyeing this pairing for a while, and finally decided to attempt it. (For all of those who have been waiting for an update on Excellent at Pitching, I'm sorry, but I'm at a point in the chapter where every time I look at it my brain dies.)**

Side Effects of Sex

The bed was rumpled and the sheets dirty, coated in the side effects of _sex; _the single light on the ceiling had long since given up and simply flickered out, casting the room in the eerie shadows of late-night, star-struck, city life; the smell of Thai takeout floated lazily around the legs of the lonely and laden table on which the source rested; there were no curtains, as they had been ripped from their perch hours earlier, and now instead huddled on the floor, entirely useless, since the cat found them too itchy to sleep on, and had, out of sheer exhaustion, removed itself from the room in quest of a more comfortable abode.

The tenants of the small flat, however, had no qualms about their state of relaxation – one typically doesn't after such a smashing romp with the person they profess to adore above all others. In fact, one might already be craving another go.

Albus Potter would be that one.

While, yes, it was glorious to be wrapped around his partner and offering him protection and support through the night, and yes, it was awe-inspiring to know that he even wanted him there in the first place; Albus had to face it – he was practically a dog in heat. It wasn't helping one lick that the aforementioned partner seemed to be from the same mold, either.

It was a known fact that Scorpius Malfoy was as partial to second rounds as a Muggle who had just lost a game of Rock Paper Scissors.

The cuddling didn't last long (which could be blamed on Albus's constant nuzzling of the other's neck with his teeth), and soon they were snogging and touching and stroking wherever they could find skin to do so.

As many times as this might happen, he never got tired of it. He never felt bored with the way Scorpius shivered when Albus bit his lip while they kissed, or how he moaned every time Albus pushed his fingers into a particular location along his spine, or the little grunt he didn't know he gave whenever Albus rolled on top of him. The Potter never grew sick of the fantastically debauched look Scorpius had when his white-blonde hair was splayed all over the black pillow and his neck was red with blooming love-bites, or the impatient way he tugged on Albus's hair when he was needing more contact _right now_, or how his face scrunched up when Albus finally pushed inside him. It never failed to blow his mind that Scorpius wanted _him_, and that he was – in turn – encased in _Scorpius_.

He supposed that, logically, this should be old. Two-and-a-half years they'd been together, and this was a common occurrence for them, so why should Scorpius's every whimper and plea have Albus careening head first into the sticky and bubbling swamp that the general population of the planet had deemed Love?

Albus also supposed that he knew, deep down inside, that it was the little things. Sex was nice – this was true – but so was Scorpius when he gave up control and allowed Albus to completely dominate him. It probably had sex – as a whole, with anyone else – beat. Scorpius would spread his legs, surrender his pride, and beg; and Albus found this to be the highlight of his life, because in those moments, he knew – without even a _shadow_ of a doubt – that the other man needed him, too.

Scorpius would close his eyes when the rhythm started up, and his head would fall back onto the bed and create that wicked look that Al loved so much, and Al would pull him up so that they weren't lying down anymore, and Scorpius would be in his lap, rolling his hips up and down to meet his every stunted thrust with enthusiasm, and their gazes would lock and their lips would follow. Right before Scorpius would come, his eyes and mouth would drop open as if he was watching the best fireworks display in history: He would have no emotion on his face except for raw, and beautiful amazement; and his fingernails would dig into whatever purchase they were currently using (usually Al's shoulders); and he would gasp for air, just once, quietly; and then he wouldn't breathe again until he was completely spent, his seed spilled between them.

Albus often said that it was the most gorgeous site he would ever hope to witness.

The side effect just happened to be Love.

And it wasn't only the shagging, either. It was also how Scorpius held himself; a perfect match of his father in aristocratic nature, and yet a complete opposite when it came to standards (moral, personal, relationship, you name it). It was the manner with which he spoke, and how he treated everyone as if they were merely people, with no title, and no lineage, and no painful background. It was the way he never took cream in his tea; the way he loved sushi but hated caviar; the way he fawned over the ocean; the way he did this, and did that, and did the other.

In short, it was Scorpius.

It had _always_ been Scorpius.

* * *

_The door to the flat falls open and reveals a slightly pissed and completely glowing Malfoy, and, wouldn't you know it? It's exactly the Malfoy Albus doesn't want to see. Why can't it be Draco, or Narcissa? _Hell, _thinks Albus_ _– _even Lucius would be preferred at this point._ But no. It has to be the _youngest_ Malfoy, and consequently, the one that he is currently feuding with. _

_But that glow… It has Albus curious, and they have a single stipulation that they have agreed upon, and Scorpius is a stickler for following pre-designated rules, so Albus stiffly stands aside and allows him to enter the flat. Their flat._

_As previously mentioned, Scorpius is somewhere very close to drunk, but this doesn't surprise Al, since he has just come from a family dinner. As soon as he had reached legal age, family and wine had become best friends, and he often returns home in a slightly inebriated state._

_But Scorpius holds his alcohol well, so – although he smells strongly of merlot – he manages to walk into the room without any trace of a stumble. Albus closes the door behind him and says nothing, opting instead to return to the Muggle computer he had been working at before being so rudely interrupted by Scorpius's knock at the door. _

_He sits down, trying to ignore the stare he can feel drilling into his back, and returns to the article he is supposed to be editing. His mum needs it completely abridged by the end of the week, and since computers are one of the many Muggle technologies she doesn't understand, Albus has offered to do it. He, at least, knows how to work a spell-check._

"_I've done it," says Scorpius, startling Albus._

"_Done what?" he counters, without turning to face the man he is addressing._

"_Told them. My mum and my dad. I swear, it was the first time they'd –"_

_Albus spins his seat around, staring at Scorpius, not daring to believe his words. "You didn't," he says, hoping he _did.

_Scorpius nods, his smile growing as he holds his arms straight out at his sides. "I did." He lets them drop._

_Albus is shocked. After all this time, could he really have finally grown a pair…? "What'd they say?" he manages to squeak out._

_Malfoy winces, leaning on the back of the couch for support. Perhaps he is more drunk than he lets on. "Well, Mum didn't really mind, not much. I think she saw it coming, bless her. Father, on the other hand… Well, let's just say there's a reason he and Mum divorced."_

_Albus nods, completely understanding, while simultaneously being totally and utterly bamboozled. "But why?" he asks after a pause in which Scorpius does nothing but sway a bit._

"_Why what? Why'd Father freak out and go all pale and stop talking for the rest of the evening? Or why'd the waitress kept flirting with him? Oh, I don't think I mentioned that. Anyways, she seemed to think –"_

"_Scor. Shut up. I meant, 'Why'd you tell them now, of all times?'"_

"_Oh, that's easy. I missed you." Scorpius pushes off of the couch, trying to stand on his own. He succeeds. _

"_You…"_

"_Missed you."_

"_Really?" _Because I've missed you, too; so much so that it hurts to even _be_ here without you. It makes my chest ache, and my head hurt, because this isn't my home if you aren't here._ Albus is nervous._

"_Yeah. I figured I was being a prat, and you really had grounds to be irate with me, so I decided to do something about it." Scorpius looks past Albus, not seeing him, but something else entirely. "You could imagine how terrified I was. It isn't every day one is faced with a situation in which one must tell one's father that one is dating the son of the childhood enemy of one's said father. Especially when you factor in that one is also male. Makes for a regular sausage fest."_

_Scorpius is talking pretty fast for someone who's slightly smashed, and his words are blending together and confusing Albus, but he doesn't really care, because he's gotten the gist of the conversation. "So," he begins, "you want me to let you move back in? Is that why you're here?"_

_He doesn't mean it to come out sounding so harsh, but there isn't any way to take it back. Scorpius is already offended._

"_No, I came here because I _missed_ you. Did you not get that part? I'm trying to make things better here by following your rules, but you don't want to have anything to do with it – or me for that matter – so I guess I'll just leave, and go tell my parent's that I was wrong, and apparently I'm not with Potter's son, because –"_

"_Scor," Al says, trying desperately to stop this from turning into a Malfoy Rampage. "You're drunk. You're twisting what –"_

"_I am most certainly not drunk!" He's indignant now. "Fippy may have spilled half a bottle of wine down my trousers when Father startled her, but I did – not – drink – a – drop!"_

"_Oh, you're going to blame the house elf, are you?" Albus stands up and takes a step forward, not knowing if he's angry at Scorpius or not._

"_Yeah, I bloody well am, considering it's her fault my clothes smell like a bloody vineyard!"_

_Now they are standing chest to chest, and Albus is using the Weasley Stare, trying to unearth the truth from Scorpius's stormy eyes. They're both practically growling at each other, but Al can't see even a _speck_ of liquor clouding his judgment, which is just as well, as he is now incredibly ready for a make-up celebration. _

_Keeping up his angry exterior, Albus says, "Well then we'd better get you out of them, hadn't we?" and without missing a beat, Scorpius replies in the affirmative._

_Next thing either of them know, they're snogging and groping as if it's going out of fashion. Albus's head is reeling from the wonderfully alcohol free taste of Scorpius and he is – once again – swept away by him. _

_Before he has a chance to process what he's doing, he has already lead Scorpius into their bedroom and pushed him up against the wall, except that he's missed, and instead the curtains come tumbling down. They ignore it, and collapse on the bed. The cat runs into the closet to hide until they're done. Albus finds this ironic. Albus also thinks that it's been too damn long – three weeks._

_He's missed this._

_He's missed Scorpius._

* * *

**Author's Note: This is the first time I've published something with any tense other than past, so I'm kind of nervous about it, but my brain just kept automatically switching over to present tense any time I used a verb, so… Yeah… Anywhos, reviews would be marvelous. Let me know how I did.**

**Update: Thanks go to maxwellattack for helping my horrid grammar. (Yes, you were extremely rude about it, but it caught my attention, didn't it?)**


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